He says, respect the Lord, and don't cause pain to my heart.
Fear my laments; my complaint is not the voice of a captured bird, which will
prove to be without effect. The Lord will certainly make it effective. (171)

Oh cruel one, respect the Lord! Fear the laments that emerge
from my heart. My laments are not those of a captured bird. That is, they
will not remain without effect. Don't become ensnared in difficulties. (226)

FWP:

The commentators' almost unanimous view suffers from the
same problem that Faruqi complained about in {112,5}:
it's 'devoid of pleasure'. In addition, it basically ignores the powerful
little word bhii . The cure for such limited interpretations
is not far to seek: pay closer attention to every word, every nuance, every
grammatical possibility of the verse; and ask yourself why Ghalib would have
expected a hearer to say vaah vaah .

Here, the central axis of the verse is surely the contrast
between a groaning, wailing, suffering cry [naalah-e zaar]; and
a beautiful, melodious, fortunate voice [navaa]. In
the first line, the beloved is enjoined to fear (the moral power of) her tormented
lover's lament, and to 'respect the Lord' by fearing divine punishment and
treating her lover less harshly. In addition to threatening her with God's
justice in the first line, the lover goes on in the second line to take a
new tack: he seeks to cajole the beloved and beg her compassion. And here,
in true Ghalibian style, we have two rueful, all-too-appropriate readings
to choose from.

For (2a), we insert an implicit mujhe :
after all, you ought to pity me, because I'm more wretched even than a captive
bird. I have only groans and wails and vain cries for justice, while a captive
bird has a melodious voice [navaa], and may sing very
sweetly and even be loved for its song. A captive bird may enjoy a luxurious
life in its cage, while I live in constant torment. And a captive bird may
have the supreme joy of being near you, perhaps of being fed dainty tidbits
by your own fingers, while you deny me everything and cast me into the outer
darkness of separation.

By contrast (2b), paints a very different picture of the
captive bird. After all, you ought to pity me and treat me kindly. You ought
to show compassion for my misery, just as you would for that of a captured
bird. 'Captive' [giriftaar] can equally well be read
as 'captured', so that the bird can be imagined as newly captured. You can't
expect me to sing sweetly, just as a newly captured bird has no 'song' to
express his misery and suffering. You should pity me for my inarticulate wretchedness.
A captured bird has no navaa in the sense of prosperity
or good fortune either; nor, God knows, do I. Just as it would be cruel and
unworthy of you to torment a helpless, bewildered, newly captured bird, for
all the same reasons you should sympathize with me.